James Norrington, Do You Fear Death?
by carrymeoff
Summary: What would have happened if James Norrington had lived? Takes place from from what would have been his death, onward.
1. Chapter 1: Do You Fear Death?

"James Norrington. Do you fear death?"

The words echoed through my mind, ringing and repeating as though they were rattling through an empty cavern and bringing about one question that felt harsh against my mind. _'Did I fear death.'_

Did I fear death? I know not. Was my life so easily passed by as a fly upon a black wall. Was my courage so easily cast aside as the contents of well used chamberpot? Could I be so easily lost as a candle flame in a gale. Or was my life worth more to me than any other thing that ever supposed its existence, save for her?

_'Of course I fear death.' _I thought to myself, rather scoldingly, '_I'm a ruddy coward. I was always afraid to die. I always will be. I will always tremble at the thought of being dispatched as a horse with a broken leg is easily cast away.'_

Why did I fear it so? Why was I so afraid to relieve the greatest pain I had ever felt? Why would I deny myself this?

Why was it so hard to come to terms? Why? Perhaps I was merely weighing my options quite thoroughly. Of course not. I was always afraid of self criticism and self pity.

The answer screamed at me through my subconscious. I knew precisely the reason for my decision. I knew full well, what, or rather Whom, I was living for. As much as I wanted to tell myself that I was selfish, that I lived my life entirely for my own reasons as every other human being did. I knew that I made decisions, now and forever onward into the end of time, for one only. Elizabeth Swan.

I could not die this way. Not with her here. I could never cause her such a great pain. It was clear that she still cared for me, even if she did care for that, William, more. I could never allow her care to go to waste in such an unholy way.

_'I can't allow myself to die here and in this way'_, I decided silently to myself.

My subconscious had decided this long ago in many a nightmare. Each time I had dreamt of my death, somehow Elizabeth would arrive within the dream. Shortly after, the dream would end.

"I do not fear death." Jones raised the cutlass. I raised my hand in delay. "However, I would prefer not to die."

"Then you do fear death.", he stated flatly, as though he had written me off.

"No, I simply would prefer not to face it here." I passed a helpless glance toward Elizabeth, who was now shouting my name in fearing screams.

Jones looked out across the water, catching a glimpse of my beloved Elizabeth and taking in the sound of her cries with a loathsome and sinister air. A horrid smile crossed his lips, as though he were taking delight in my torment.

"Love is a dreadful bond, James Norrington.", he proclaimed all knowingly and I knew I was spared.

"Perhaps, but I for one shall honor that bond."

"Die here or serve me. Those are your choices." As if he needed to spell it out, he laid it plainly about me.

"Then I shall be forced to serve you, Davy Jones."

"One hundred years before the mast. That is your price for love."

"Farewell, Elizabeth." I whispered to my aching heart.

"Welcome to the crew.", his voice was harsh and condescending. I could sense that he wasn't very happy to have me.

I stood and turned to watch her. She boarded the ship and sailed away. Though she was the one who moved, I felt as though I was leaving her. I wondered if I would come to regret my decision in the next few days.

"What are my orders, Captain Jones." I asked, excusing my rank as Admiral Norrington. The words were easier to say than I'd have guessed. I was now part of the crew of the Flying Dutchman.

"Aloft." was his only word. I could guess his intent and gazed high above us with a daft sense of joy at the empty Crow's Nest. I would not be forced, at least for a while, to mingle with the crew.

I sat in the cold rain alone with my thoughts. My mind wandered across the vastness of the sea and all it had given me. The Sea had given myself and the Swans safe passage from London to Port Royal. A thing I had always been grateful for. The Sea had also brought me Will Turner. A thing that has taken me many years to learn to become grateful for.

Once relieved of the duty of Watchman I climbed down the rigging and proceeded about the various other duties which had been neglected. Swabbing the deck was my main priority. The boards were covered in the strange sort of slime which normally covered the hull of a ship, not to mention the many barnacles and other sea life which adorned the wood work. The mop was tattered and unused. The bucket was in very doubtful shape.

"What do you suppose you are doing?", Jones' voice was harsh, yet he seemed somehow intrigued with my current task.

"What do I appear to be doing?" I shot back, forgetting my current rank and falling into my old habits from Tortuga. I had become a harsh and bitter man in my time spent there.

"Oh, I know _what_ you are doing. I was merely inquiring why you are doing so.", Was he trying to sound proper? The sentences were strange to hear coming from his mouth.

"I felt it necessary to do so, Captain." I answered, keeping my tone the least bit condescending I could manage.

"Well, carry on then." He seemed surprised by my addressing him as, Captain and I was surprised with his pleasant tone.

"Aye, Captain." I gave him an assuring nod to show the sentiment of my respect and, to my surprise, he nodded back.

I continued to mop as he walked away, my thoughts riddled with confusion and doubt. Why was he appearing to be so pleasant and kind toward me? It bothered me a bit more than I'd have expected.

"Perhaps my choice was not so terrible as it sounded. Only time shall tell, I suppose." I muttered to myself.

Time wore on and I had finished swabbing when his sullen voice interrupted my silence.

"Well done, Mr. Norrington." he said with obvious sentiment and I nearly dropped my mop in surprise.

"Thank you, Captain", I replied back with nod and a forced smile while I wondered what his angle might be. Few people doled out compliments without wanting something in return.


	2. 2: A Broken Heart

_**Howdy all. Sorry for the delay, but life got in the way.**_

_**Anyway, just a couple notes about this chapter. First I'll mention I changed one thing, for now at least, if you're movie savvy, you'll be able to pick it out. I changed it, cause it adds a bit of irony to the story line.I want to thank you all for your comments, too! They sparked a couple of knew ideas, and also allowed me to notice and fix a spelling error. My lap top does odd things with spell check.**_

_**Thanks, all and keep the comments coming!**_

_**0 0 0**_

"Come with Us." The words echoed through my half waking thoughts, "James, come with me.",

"Come with me." Oh, how I'd wanted so much to go with her. My heart gave a small throb at this thought and I tried to force it away. To drift back into slumber and dreams, but it would not allow itself to be forced away. It lingered there and each beat of my heart stung me like a thousand stings of the lash.

But this heart sting was too real, too physical to be the result of a broken heart. It had to be something more. It gained in its intensity with each beat of my heart until I could stand it no longer.

I suppressed a yell. I suppressed every urge to cry out in pain. Every fiber of my being longed for release, but it continued to grow more painful by the second until it was more than pain. It was shear agony, torture even. My heart was throbbing in my eardrums. All I could hear was the sound of my heart, drowning out all else in the world, until there was nothing.

All at once I felt nothing. No pain, no heartache, nothing but a numbness that tingled its way into my bones and demanded my full attention. Something else, though, had my attention. The sound of my heart beating had stopped. Was it possible?

I pressed a hand to the side of my neck in a panic and found nothing. I nearly fainted at the thought. My heart, a thing I had grown to loathe for its cruelty and indecisive desires. The thing that ached for the things I could never have. Was gone, or at least, inaccessible.

'Good riddance!' I thought. Though deep inside my soul, I knew I still loved my heart.

The longer I thought about it, the more sense it made to me. No spell, or curse, or voodoo magic could possibly keep a man alive for 100 years, or at least, keep a heart beating. In order to live and serve for 100 years under Davy Jones one would have to be dead. It was logical, given what I knew of him. Not to mention the fact that we could all supposedly breath underwater.

So this was the price to pay. To avoid death for the fear of it, but to meet it anyway before you could complete a single day of life.

I noticed two barnacles had attached themselves to my left hand. I moved to pull them off, but thought better of it. Perhaps I'd fit in better with a couple of random sea creatures attached to my flesh.

Just then they called the crew to rise. I shifted my way out of my hammock, careful not to strike anything with the rusty, broken cutlass that stuck out a foot or two from my chest. I already loathed it, it already got in my way.

I noticed, upon close inspection. That the skin around the cutlass, though tender and red, was not at all raw or fresh. It had healed overnight. A gift, perhaps if you'd been shot of stabbed or some similar wound where nothing was imbedded in you. For me, and a few others I'd noticed, it was a curse.


End file.
